Being Alive
by Compulsive Bowler
Summary: In a world where homophobia is present at every turn, what will Mark do to keep his secret, and more importantly, his sanity. Rated T for some small language and sexual content
1. You don't know

**A/N This is my first fanfic story, so please review. Reviews make my heart smile. Oh and before I forget, I only own Rent and the characters in my dreams. Not out here *tear* RIP Jonathan Larson.**

Being Alive

A lonely Mark sat in his room staring blankly out into space. Roger was out, no one knows where, doing whatever. _Probably won't be back for several days _Mark thought. Roger was in withdrawal after a relapse due to Mimi's death, but lately he was getting weaker. Everyday Mark found himself becoming more protective of Roger, most likely because Maureen was out of town visiting her family. They had gotten back together since Maureen's final fight with Joanne. Joanne had stormed into the loft and slapped Maureen because she had a one night stand with a guy she met at the Cat Scratch club.

Mark decided to escape his boredom; he could go outside and try to film something. "Beats sitting here alone," he mumbled to himself. So he grabbed his camera and left the cold loft. Once outside he found Maureen who was just coming to see him from returning home.

"Marky!" she screamed, "I missed you so much!" She proceeded to hug him until he had to physically push her away.

"Maureen, you're not supposed to be back for another two days. Did something happen?"

"Yes actually, but it's a long story and you're getting footage-" she sounded somewhat melancholy and depressed before Mark cut her off.

"That can wait. Come on up, I'll make you some hot coco and you can explain it.

"Since when do you guys have luxuries like hot coco?" she questioned infusing it with humor.

"Uhm, never. But I can go buy some." Mark offered sweetly.

Maureen retorted, "That's okay, I'll survive. Come on." She said while pulling his arm and dragging Mark up the stairs, Mark always 3 steps behind.

"So what's the problem Maur Maur?" Mark asked while nonchalantly putting his arm around her.

"Okay, so you know how my brother is bi?" Mark nodded yes "Well while I was home, he decided to come out to my parents since I was there for backup and all. When he told them, they kicked him out of the house! He's living with our cousins now, they're in Queens, but I'm terrified!" Maureen confessed while crying into Mark's shoulder.

"You never told them about Joanne?"

"No, just in case it was a phase and wasn't real you know?" Maureen asked turning to Mark for support.

"I g-got it," Mark said with the stutter he only got when he was nervous.

"What up with the stutter?" Maureen asked incredulously.

"Nothing's up. I just feel bad for your brother," Mark lied.

"Whatever you say Marky, whatever you say." Maureen said as she walked away and into her room.

"_Take it! Take it!" screamed the anonymous voice. "Come on help me out buddy!"_

This flashback made Mark tremble. He had gotten drunk to avoid feeling alone a few days before Maureen came back, and he remembered this before he passed out. That wasn't what made Mark tremble though, he may have liked it. What if he was bi, or even flat out gay…no he couldn't be. He still loved Maureen, but it felt so natural to him. Maybe if he just found out who the guy was, he could sort this out….

"Mark, hey buddy, you alive?" Roger said while shaking Mark out of his trance.

"Yeah sorry Rog, just thinking."

"What about this time," Roger said trying to be the psychologist in the situation.

"Nothing important. Just...well…uh..."

"SPIT IT OUT!" Roger yelled jokingly

"Have you ever done it with...ya know…a guy?" Mark asked sheepishly.

"Once or twice, why do you ask," Roger interrogated.

"I just had this weird dream the other night while you were out. I was drunk and some guy was doing me. It was just really weird," Mark shrugged it off.

Roger froze. He knew he had come home high on smack the other night, but he had no recollection of what he did. But it all came flooding back to him. He saw Mark downing some Stolli before he went into his room, and thought it would be a good prank for when he woke up to have Roger on him. He remembered he had to snap out of it. He did the only thing he could think of, he kissed Mark softly on his lips.

"What the-" Mark asked.

"Just go with it," Roger said seductively.

With that he drew Mark in to another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate, expecting Mark to pull away. To his surprise, Mark didn't. He kissed Roger back, at first timidly like he was unsure. Mark could feel Roger's breath on his neck when Roger grabbed Mark's shoulders for fear of him escaping. The kiss soon became intense and seductive. Rogers tongue entered Mark's mouth, stroking the roof and battling with his tongue as they kissed when he realized Mark was taking off his shirt. Following Mark's lead, he shed his own t shirt and they resumed their kissing. They proceeded to the tattered couch and Roger, on top of Mark, pulled out a condom. They spent the rest of the night together before finally falling asleep at 4 am.

"That was pretty hot yesterday," Roger teased Mark as he was waking up and coming out for coffee.

"Roger this isn't funny! What if Maureen found out, what if I'm HIV+ now, goddamit what if I'm bisexual!" Mark screamed before falling into Roger's arms weeping.

"And what if you were just having fun hmm? Maureen would understand THAT wouldn't she?" Roger was always good at persuading Mark. "Besides, I used a condom,"

"I just can't take the pressure!" Mark cringed at the thought of being bi after what happened to Maureen's brother.

"You have to admit it was pretty hot," teased Roger, "Besides, it can be our little secret."

"Our secret?" Mark asked just to be sure.

"Promise," Roger said before Mark pulled him in for a deep kiss. Mark was so drawn to Roger he didn't notice Roger's red eyes.


	2. Killing me softly

Hello…**anybody there? Does anybody care? Does anybody see what I see?** 2 things. PLEASE REVIEW! I don't know if it's worth it to continue if no one is reading, and 20 points to anyone who can find where the reference up top is from. The one in bold. I don't own anything.

Maureen's POV

I opened the sliding door to the loft only to find Roger straddling Mark! How the hell could Roger do that! Both of them are straight…..or so I thought….and that's when I saw it in Roger's eyes. The red. If Roger was, then Mark must have been too, why else would Mark give in? It just made no sense…..

"Mark, we need to talk," Maureen said very abruptly while staring at Mark with her signature dagger eyes.

"Sure what's up?" Mark asked appearing oblivious. He knew something was up though. What if Maureen found out about him and Roger…..would it be over?

"You need to stop. Right now. This "addiction" is getting insane and it has gone too far." Maureen was talking about heroin, Mark wasn't.

"It's not addictive Maureen; you'd be high 24/7 if it was. And so what, I was just having a little fun…" Mark used Roger's excuse. If Maureen didn't understand, then she was seriously fucked up.

"MARK! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY THAT HOOKED?" Maureen screamed at Mark while slapping him across his boney face. It stung his face until it was as red as a strawberry.

"Go die in a fucking hole Maureen, just leave!" Mark uttered. It was low, deep, and powerful, but still infused with confusion.

"Fine. Guess I'm leaving." Maureen retorted very finally.

"Good bye and good riddance." Mark said smugly once she was gone.

When Roger came back in, Mark was cutting together footage.

"Mark, quit working. Will you ever just take a month long break?" Roger asked interrogation style.

"Not as long as I have to support your sorry ass," Mark replied without hesitation.

"Geez someone's had a rough day"

"You were wrong."

"Well it sure as hell doesn't seem like it was too jolly-"

"I meant about Maureen understanding. We broke up"

"She saw? Shit, Mark I didn't mean for you to lose her…" Roger replied empathetically.

"It's ok."

"No it's not. You're a living mess. Look at you; you've already edited your documentary 12 times today! You're not ok Mark. Does the documentary ever get finished? No because as soon as it's done you're gonna have to start having emotions again. So spare me the 'it's a work in progress' lecture, because I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!" Roger ranted

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mark asked. It all made sense now, Roger was pissed off because, he loved Maureen. Or so Mark thought…

One cup that's, all I'll have. Maybe two, but only if it doesn't leave. Screw this, the whole bottle. One bottle of Stolli isn't that much; I mean Roger does it all the time.

One more sip

One more cup

"Woah Mark what the hell happened here? Mark…Mark I know you're mad but you can't avoid me forever," I called out.

Shit, where is he?

I find him unconscious on the floor. God what happened?

"Mark come on we have to get you to the hospital"

I overheard Roger talking to someone, but I couldn't make out the voice.

"Mr…."

"Davis"

"Right. Does Mr. Cohen have any pre existing conditions known?"

"Well he has seemed sick over the past few weeks. And he's been bruising more easily, but he always has. That's not really new."

"Has he ever been exposed to HIV?"

"Shit. Yes he has. Is it possible? You know that he's…"

"Positive? Yes it's highly likely. No need to fret though, he'll be fine in a few hours after we pump his stomach,"

"Fine? How can you even think that! He's going into an early grave and goddamit it's _my_ fault!" Roger was really upset. I could tell that much.

"It is possible that he's negative, we'll take a test on him just to be sure."

"Mr. Davis? It appears that Mr. Cohen is indeed HIV positive."

"Fuck," I managed to mutter.

"Mark! You're alive! Oh thank god I thought you were gone!" Roger screamed while hugging me closely. When his hand touched my back, I went limp. Something about Roger always did that to me. But this time it was filled with genuine concern.

"Rog, I was getting my stomach pumped, not a bypass."

"I know. But…you, you heard the news right?" I couldn't keep it together anymore. I fell into Roger's arms, tears flooding down my face and cried into his shirt for what seemed like an hour before the doctor said Roger had to go. What would I do without Roger? What would happen to me after he was gone, what will I do now?

_A/N yes this is a short chapter. Consider it punishment for a lack of review _:) _ More reviews= longer chapters._


	3. Another one bites the dust

**A/N So yeah. This chapter is rather short, but I have a case of writers block and for that reason if you want to send me any ideas please do so! I already know how the story ends, but I need events in the middle. And a special thank you to GoldStarGrl for the first review! I will try and respond to reviews at the beginning of each chapter to those who so wish to respond. **

**GoldStarGrl: Thank you for the review, and despite having 4 people try and edit this story, none of us are too fantastic at grammar so I hope it doesn't hinder the emotion of the story at all!**

I was unconscious in the hospital for the next day or so. HIV positive and without Roger, I was lost. So I did the next best thing for myself, I called Maureen.

"Hello?"

"Maureen hey it's uhm it's Mark…"

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I just called to apologize for whatever it is I did to hurt you so much and to tell you that I'm in the hospital right now."

"What happened? Did you and Roger OD?"

"What? Maureen what are you talking about…"

"When I came into the loft you and Roger were high and 'getting it on' on your couch. Mark I'm still pissed but I am concerned, so I'll be there in 5." What the fuck? High? With Roger? Wait…was that why he was acting so weird? Was that the only reason he wanted me? And just as I was getting to a resolution, Maureen came in.

"Mark thank god you're ok. Alcohol poisoning?" I nodded my head. "Well you always were a lightweight." Great. Good to know that my ex thinks I'm lame. Like this is what I had really planned when I called her.

"Maureen, what did you mean about Roger being high…" I was afraid of the answer, but I had to know. He couldn't be back on drugs…he was doing so well! After Mimi had gone I thought that nothing in the world would bring him back to smack and the toll that it had on those with HIV. The thought that I was one of those people now made me lose it. "Maureen, I'm HIV positive!" I wailed awaiting the sweet embrace that would follow. It never came.

"Did you really share needles with Roger? I thought you were smarter than that Mark!"

"Maureen I didn't get high with Roger, I had sex with him!" There it was out. At least now I would be able to be completely honest about it.

"Oh my god. You really don't know do you." I shook my head no in obvious response. "Roger has been using again." The only 5 words I didn't want to hear. He had done so well I just couldn't believe it. Then, I broke down weeping in Maureen's arms and we were silent for the rest of her brief visit.

_Two weeks later_

"Mark come on the loft hasn't changed since you left," Roger called back to me.

"Yeah but I don't want to go in there. Too many bad memories, too much pain it's just too much for me to deal with right now."

"I gotcha, but we can't afford anywhere else. Hell, we can't even afford this!" It felt bad arguing with Roger after what went down, but what else could I do? As he slid open the metal door and we entered the all too familiar loft I stopped. I don't know why, but it felt as if my legs stopped working entirely.

"Rog, I can't do it anymore" It had to come out. I couldn't live here anymore, it was just too heartbreaking.

"What? That's bull Mark. You're gonna be fine, I'll even get Maureen to come over when I'm bartending and you two can…ya know….hang out or whatever"

"No Rog, I'm serious. Being in the loft brings back too much for me to take. My life is going no where! I'm a failed filmmaker, you're a junkie who bartends so that we don't die of starvation and damnit I can't take loving someone who uses me!"

"What the hell are you talking about Mark?"

"Roger, I know you're using again so don't even try to deny it."

"Ok fine. I'm using what does it matter anyway?" Now I was pissed.

"Roger don't you get it? Everything you do matters to me…it matters to the point where it's unhealthy. I spend more time everyday wondering if you took your damn AZT than I do trying to get money to feed myself! It's not healthy for my mind or my body, but I was willing to give those up if it helped you. This…this just kills me. To know that you don't take the sacrifices I made for you seriously!" I was on the verge of tears, but I was still going strong. No one uses Mark Cohen, not even Roger.

"Wait, go back. You can't take loving someone who-"

"Yeah Roger. I loved you. But I can't take being used. I have to go. If I'm not back by next week, forget about me. Forget I ever existed, please for my own sanity." This was it. There really was no turning back, it was over. With that last note I turned around, picked up my bags, and left. Off in the distance I could hear Roger calling.

"I'm sorry! I hope you know I never meant to hurt you Mark!"

Well you did a damn good job of screwing that one up Rog.

**A/N Ok so I just want to apologize again for the brevity of this chapter. Reviews please!**


	4. I miss the mountains

A/N Thanks for the patience, I had writers block. So here's the next chapter and all that good stuff. This chapter is gonna be life half and half with both Mark and Roger's POV. The reviews are really like crack, now that I have them, I need more ;)

Ellokin Nivan: Sorry about that. I wrote it in a matter of 15 min on my phone, but I will try to be more detailed in this chapter and I will 90% likely go back and add more detail to chapter 3

Karleigh-Q: Thank you! As you can see, this is an update so there you go!

RedRubyStorm: Agreed about Roger. It seems especially so in M/R slash because Mark is such a sweetie and he cares so much and Roger is just an ass to him in half of them. At least in some stories he realized it :)

Roger's POV

So this was it. Mark left the loft because of me. Because I was using. And the weird part is, I hurt. After April I was sad and mainly pissed that I had HIV now. After Mimi I cried for a week because she was essentially my sister. My sister with whom I had sex, but a sister none the less. After Mark left, I felt broken. It was like when he left, he took a piece of me with him. My logical side. The side that could make me feel better. My conscience. My heart. Mark was my family…no he was more than family. It's like over the time that we've known each other our minds and bodies have been fused together. Without him here, it's like half of me is missing.

Thinking always helped me…when Mark was here at least. Walking into the dingy, dank loft without him killed me. I literally felt a pang of pain in my aorta as I trudged across the floor. The entire loft was ridden with screenplays, sheet music, film, guitar picks, and needles. Well, my room was filled with needles. Mark was an angel. An angel who played by the rules. I mixed my newly bought smack with some water in a spoon, heated it up, poured it into the syringe, and was ready to shoot up when something stopped me. Placing the needle carefully on the wooden box I used as a table, I got up and went outside. Thinking Mark was just out filming, I ran around alphabet city franticly looking for the filmmaker who was my other half. I didn't see him. I couldn't hear him, so I made some calls. Remembering that Mark had tried to strike up a friendship with Joanne while she and Maureen were still dating, I tried calling her. One ring, two rings, three…damnit this was taking too long. After four she finally picked up.

"Joanne Jefferson attorney how may I help you?" She asked quite professionally as she gingerly put the phone to her ear.

"Joanne it's Roger."

"Roger hi. I didn't expect to hear from you ever again how are you?" Joanne asked since she was oblivious to the fact that if I was calling, it wasn't to chat.

"Joanne, Mark's missing. He stormed out of the loft this morning right after coming back from the hospital." I told her the whole story.

"Well Roger, I'll help look tomorrow after work. He hasn't stopped by here so he has to be further uptown."

"Ok well…thanks." I said while abruptly hanging up. It's not that I was trying to be rude; I just really thought he would have crashed at Joanne's since no one else wanted to associate with him.

Mark's POV

Just keep walking, they don't mean a thing. I had to tell myself this every time I would get a homophobic remark. Or even when people laughed at me for carrying my camera and a bag of clothes. I looked ridiculous and being in one of the most popular cities in the country didn't help the cause. At around 8 pm I finally plopped myself on a nearby bench. It was disgusting and filled with gum, but I really didn't care. I needed to get away, hopefully for good this time. Maureen had gone back to Yonkers to tell her parents about her sexuality, so I decided when I left the loft to go there too.

In order to make enough money for the bus, I had been performing at different corners. Yeah, I was singing. I had always been a pretty good singer, but I didn't love it. Not as much as filming at least. Singing is a way to express your emotions, I don't have many emotions. Well I do, but it's really hard to tell. Only when I feel them real strongly do I have the power to differentiate them. But filming lets me see everyone else's emotions, and that's easier to tell than mine. I'm tired, I mean I've been tired since I got into the hospital, but it's really bad right now. And right as I'm drowsing to sleep on the corner of 42nd and Broadway, I see someone running towards me. Someone dressed in a suit with a briefcase. Do I know any business men here? Oh wait it's Joanne. What's she doing here? I haven't seen her since she and Maureen split.

"Mark oh thank god you're ok!" She said fussing around with my tousled, unbrushed hair for a bit. "Roger's been worried sick about you,"

"Well let him be. Did you know he's been using again?" I questioned her like I was Socrates.

"No, I-" I cut her off

"Well he has. And it hurts me too much to see him do it all again." I mumbled holding back the waterworks that were building up in my eyes.

"Mark, he gave it up. Go back to him, he's changing and he realized he can't live without you." Joanne explained.

"No. It's too hard to live with someone you love who not only doesn't have a mutual feeling, but uses you on top of it! It's just too hard to deal with," I spat at her. How dare she talk about his withdrawal, he won't be able to make it on his own, he barely made it through the first time with me there to support him. No I wouldn't go back, I shouldn't go back, and I flat out couldn't go back. "No Joanne, I won't do it. He's pushed me over the edge this time. I miss him, but if going back means withdrawal again and him finding more girls to fool around with while I sit there and wonder, then it's just not worth it." I wouldn't do it. I just had to tell myself, as I turned around, _don't look back, don't look back_ and the minute I looked back, I knew I regretted my decision.


	5. Turn back, o man

A/N: Hey all, long time no see! Yeah I'm terrible at updating, but I'm back and on break so I should be able to update a bit. Without ado, chapter 5!

Joanne trudged back into the loft to find Roger pacing nervously, phone numbers strewn across the floor, and his guitar collecting dust in the corner. Exasperated, she decided she would avoid the topic for as long as possible. From the looks of it, she couldn't do that for long.

"Where's Mark? Did you find him?" Roger pounced on the subject immediately.

"Well Roger, I found him, but he-" she choked on her words, "he's uhm, he's not coming back," she replied solemnly.

"What?" Roger asked in disbelief. With the face of a puppy, he looked at Joanne for a plausible excuse for Mark's refusal. His eyes watered and his brow furrowed so as to see the obvious worry and pain rushing through his mind.

"Roger, I tried. But you're using again and that really hurt him," Joanne reasoned, careful not to aggravate Roger more than he already was.

"Bull shit! Mark needs to get his sorry ass back here right now," Roger barked. "Joanne go get him!"

"Roger, I tried, but he won't listen-"

"No! He has to come back; I can't get clean again if he doesn't come back," Roger screamed at Joanne in his panic. "Joanne go and get him to come back; I can't live without him. Just do it okay?"

"No Roger, it's _NOT _okay! Don't you get it?" Joanne yelled back. There was a lot that Joanne could take, but when Roger bossed her around and yelled at her to fix his problems, she cracked. "He's gone because of you. The only thing I can do is help you find him. The rest is up to you."

Roger just stood there, mouth agape, as he realized, Joanne was right. His epiphany entailed that it _was _his fault. He had to go find Mark before it was too late. He began sprinting out the door when Joanne called to him.

"Roger, where the hell are you going?"

She heard his echo in the stairwell, "To find Mark!"

**Mark**

Mark sat there on the cold, damp bench as he recalled the events of that afternoon. He wanted nothing more than Roger's attention. _Roger's _attention. He couldn't be gay, he just couldn't face it. All of his friends would not only be apathetic about it, but they would run down avenue B, drunk, with megaphones proclaiming it to the world. However, not everyone in the world was that accepting. Just thinking of Maureen's parents put him in a panic. He felt his breathing get shallow and he became faint just thinking about it. He had to get out before it was too late. He couldn't nurse Roger back again, especially not with his newfound crush. Instead of facing his problems or even detaching like he normally would, he did the only thing he could think of. He ran. He didn't know exactly in which direction he took off for, but he ran.

His skinny legs served him well in such endeavors. He darted down an abandoned alley that parents would warn their children not to pass through. It was dark and dank with rats that scatter and scram throughout. Mark could not endure anymore; physically or emotionally, so he collapsed on the gravel dirt by an empty beer bottle and wept. _"How can I go on?"_ Mark thought to himself. He couldn't go back to the loft, he couldn't go to Joanne without her telling Roger where he was, and he couldn't even go to Maureen.

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson changed Maureen. Since their incident, Maureen had avoided everyone else in the group, even Mark. As Mark contemplated his situation and his lips trembled in the cool air before he heard his name. A faint voice in the distance called "Mark! Mark, get your sorry ass out here! Please Mark, I know I fucked up, but help me!"

Mark could not imagine that anyone would really be looking for him, so he chalked it up to hallucination. However, Mark began to believe his "hallucinations" when he felt the presence of 2 strong hands grip his shoulders. He felt a sudden chill that began at the base of his spine, traveled up his back, and spread throughout his entire body. It was a chill, but a warm chill. Such that, it was a shocking presence in his being, but somehow it made him feel safe and secure.

After he felt his placid bliss, Mark sprung back into the reality of his situation. He felt a pair of hands, much stronger and powerful than his, on his shoulders forcing him to face the figure. A pang of panic rang through his body as he was about to face his attacker. What he saw astonished him. He saw Roger crying before him. Mark felt a pang of guilt when he saw Roger's red, puffy, tear-stained face staring him in the eyes. Roger's green eyes bore holes into Mark. They were deeper and more pained than any time Mark had looked into them before, whether it was to check if he was awake, crying or even high. The best part of Roger's eyes at that specific moment was they were green, white and clear. Roger was not high, so whatever was about to come was a conscious decision. Mark prepared himself for Roger to fall into his arms weeping or for him to scream, but what he got shocked him.

Roger punched him.

He hit Mark square in the jaw, but he felt so much guilt after words that he fell to the ground shaking. Roger was never good at dealing with consequences, but this felt so much worse than any other time. He had hurt his best friend, his stability, and whether he would admit it or not, his love.

Mark held out his hand to help a spastic Roger up from the ground. Their eyes met for a moment and while Roger's eyes showed confusion, Mark's showed the deepest level of disappointment possible. Grasping each other's hands they shifted their weight until both men stood on equal ground. As soon as Roger was up, Mark knew his next move. He began to walk away, but stopped at Roger's shoulder.

"I can't believe you. You used me, and then you had the nerve to come find me and punch me! Roger I love you and I want you to stay clean, but I can't deal with the risk of being injured." This was a blatant lie because Roger hurt Mark many times during withdrawal and even after he was clean when he was angsty.

"I have to go. Take care, Roger. If you feel the same way about me that I do about you, then stay clean and take your AZT." With that, Mark Cohen turned the opposite direction and darted, as quickly as he could, away from the man who turned him into an outcast.


	6. Limits of Our Love

A/N: Still bad at updating: yes. Still continuing the story: yes. Still loving reviews: yes. This story is nearing its end. Not this chapter, but there's maybe one or two more chapters and an epilogue left. Why does everyone put disclaimers that they don't own whatever fandom they are in? Seriously, this is fan fiction, has anyone ever been accused of trying to steal a published work on a site that's for fans to write about them? Side note: although I typically use italics to represent thoughts, in this particular chapter the italicized section is a flashback.

**Mark**

Mark Cohen continued to run away from his problems. It wasn't his traditional method of coping, but it would suffice now that he finished his documentary. Whether he would admit it or not, Roger was right. He did everything to avoid feeling his emotions for fear that they would absorb his soul and he would lose control. Emotions made people do crazy things. He hated that tendency.

Feeling a buildup of lactic acid in his legs, Mark decided he needed to rest. Not necessarily sleep or even lay down, he just needed to clear the excess drama from his mind. Yes, he needed a stable environment where he could just relax and try to escape.

Maureen.

The thought of showing up on the step of his ex did not appeal to Mark very much. It made him feel degraded and like he lost his battle. He didn't want help at all, let alone help from her, but she changed and if she could change that much, he thought he could become a soulless robot like her new personality.

After a few minutes of debating whether or not to go back to Maureen, he felt another tap at his shoulder. He tensed at first, thinking that it was Roger again, however he could tell it wasn't. The touch was not as violent, and he knew that Roger would have grabbed him and clenched his boney shoulder. This touch was softer, not quite feminine enough to be Maureen, but definitely softer than Roger or Collins.

"Mark, we need to talk," the voice whispered to him.

"Joanne, I don't know what to do. My life is a wreck," Mark cried. He needed Joanne, much more than she knew, at the moment.

"First, you'll come back to my apartment. We can talk and you can calm down before you decide what you want to do," she replied supportively.

"Yeah," he sighed with a pause, "yeah that sounds good."

Once they had reached Joanne's apartment, Mark became rigid. He couldn't count the times he and Roger had been over for dinner parties and such. He remembered one time vividly as one of the greatest times of his life.

_He and Roger were going to Joanne's 30__th__ birthday party that Maureen had decided to throw her. They strode into the apartment with a spring in their step. Mark, looking much cooler than usual, sported a pair of medium wash skinny jeans and a matching blue, form-fitting polo. Roger, on the other hand, dressed it up. Well, he had dressed it up by his standards. Roger wore his dark wash skinny jeans and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the first 2 buttons undone. Had a pedestrian watched them, he would quickly think they were a handsome couple going to a night at the cabaret._

_The apartment was covered from top to bottom in streamers and balloons that were red and green. Not for Christmas, Joanne's birthday was in July, but because those colors made Maureen feel festive. She always said there was something about Christmas that really was the best time of the year. Not because of the actual holiday or presents, but because the week before, no matter where you went or who you were, you felt the spirit. _

_It was Maureen's way of trying to make Joanne feel spirited. She had recently lost a very big environmental case that meant a lot to her. Some tannery in an unheard of city was polluting the water supply in its area. She wanted to win, not settle, but ultimately there wasn't enough evidence to prove them guilty. It had gotten her down for the entire week before her birthday, so Maureen decided to throw her a surprise party to cheer her up._

_Joanne entered the room shortly after Mark and Roger arrived and they all shouted "surprise!" It was cheesy, but Maureen had strategically placed some mistletoe above where she was standing so that when Joanne came over to hug her, they would both be under it. Joanne dipped Maureen and kissed her passionately while Mark and Roger stood in the back of the room so as not to be seen._

"_So this is what it's like being a wallflower," Roger commented, poking fun at Mark's dislike of participating in parties._

Mark punched Roger's shoulder jokingly, "Shut up, you know it's way more interesting to watch everyone else."

"_Why don't you like to be involved? I mean, I know that you want to be included, but you never seem to want to dance or drink or anything," Roger asked to make conversation._

"_I'm a film maker. I find it way more interesting to watch everyone else live their lives and guess what they're thinking," he replied casually. "Besides, it makes me feel psychic when I get it right," he added with a goofy smirk._

"_Fine. I don't get it, but I can respect that," Roger said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Of course, Maureen had placed mistletoe all over the apartment in case she was somewhere else when Joanne got in. They just happened to be standing under one. He exchanged a nervous glance with Mark, who just chuckled and shook his head. "Well, this is awkward," Roger mused over Maureen's planning._

"_It's okay you know," Mark whispered._

"What?"

"_It's okay if you want to, you know…" Mark stated in his adorkable fashion, but Roger just gave him a confused look of absence. "Kiss me, I meant."_

Roger's eyes grew wider and Mar immediately felt embarrassed. Roger and Mimi were still together, she just had work that night and it was the shift with the best tips, so she wouldn't give up the extra money. 

"_Sorry, that was out of line," Mark blushed bashfully and turned his head away._

"No, no it's fine," Roger replied with reassurance. He then grabbed Mark's chin, tilted it up, leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't appropriate and it was cheating, but Maureen's spirit had gotten to him.

_At first the kiss was light enough that you wouldn't assume their lips were touching at all, but it made them feel alive and anew nonetheless. After a few seconds, Mark leaned in further, applying pressure and went to lace his hands in Roger's hair, but got stuck in his hairgel._

"_Now, __**this **__is awkward," Mark chortled, embarrassed._

"_Yeah, just a bit," Roger replied quickly, but it was clear that he was sad the kiss had ended._

_They both spent the rest of the night avoiding the topic of their kiss, but both secretly wanted more._

Mark snapped back to the reality of his situation as Joanne returned from the kitchenette with Mark's tea. Tea always calmed people down, so Mark asked her to make some even though he hated tea.

"I heard," Joanne stated rather simply. "What's going on Mark?"

"The worst part, worse than being betrayed, worse than being used, is being alive. Roger was always right, I hide in my work. Once my work was done, I searched for more and I got way more than I ever bargained for. I realized that I might be gay, I contracted HIV, and I remembered why I ever fell in love with Roger."

"Woah, you're in love with Roger? I thought you had sort of a bromance," she said trying to sound hip, but failing miserably.

"Yeah, I guess I do. I guess that's why anything that happens with him is so much worse than it should be. I gave him my everything and he took advantage of it," Mark's face tensed and he got angrier. "God, he's worse than Maureen ever was. At least she had the courtesy to tell me what was wrong straight to my face!"

"And is that what hurts the most?"

"I guess that's what hurts the most, but it's not what has me terrified…"

"Hmm, what does?"

"I can't be gay. I'm not homophobic, you know that, but others are. I can't be the guy that people call 'fruity' when I walk down the street. It just terrifies me!" Mark ranted, but by the time he finished he was practically crying on Joanne's shoulder.

"Mark, you don't have to come out if you don't want to. I will support what you do no matter what," Joanne comforted him. "But if you ever want to patch things up with Roger, you need to do it quickly. He went home and wept, and you know as well as I do that he almost never cries."

"Yeah, I guess I should go now. Thanks so much Joanne!" Mark called as he reached for the door.

"Hey, remember you can stay here if you guys don't patch it up tonight," she called out to him with a pained smile on her face.

Mark ran out of Joanne's building and sprinted down the street. Dirty cans and pedestrians crowded the street, so he swerved to dodge them. He was almost there and he could taste it when he saw the brightest light he'd ever seen. It glowed and glistened, and then it all went black.


	7. Space in a Blinding Light

A/N: Okay I've been AWOL for a while, but I'm too lazy to repeat my story here. Go read my latest chapter of my story Every Time it Rains for the reason if you really care. Go read the actual story anyway because it's awesome. This is a variation of the last chapter, what would have happened if Mark had made it back to the loft to confront Roger. The next chapter after this will take place after the blinding light (lol Adam Pascal reference) and that's how this chapter will end as well. R&R!

Mark ran out of Joanne's building and sprinted down the street. Dirty cans and pedestrians crowded the street, so he swerved to dodge them. The pounding of his feet on the pavement resonated through his body as he fell into a rhythm. Only two blocks away, he rounded the corner almost slamming into a few junkies nearby. Normally Mark would have yelled at them, screamed, or even shot them a scold of disappointment, but any judgments about drugs were irrelevant at that moment.

He reached the large arched doorway of their building. He threw open the door and thought of Angel. Breaking back into the building on New Year's, helping her in the hospital. God it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that the only good, pure one of them died while the rest of them survived and became lifeless drones to society. Despite his strong desire to keep running, keep going, Mark crashed. He fell down on the steps up to the loft and broke down in tears.

"Fuck you god. You know, they all say you can do anything, but just because you can doesn't mean that you should!" He threw a nearby rocky up to the edge where the grimy brick wall of the stairwell met the ceiling in fury. "I am finally able to say that I don't give a flying fuck what's right or wrong anymore, so _smite _me with your pious _fury_!" He sneered with the haughtiest face he had ever given. The left side of his lip curled up with disgust as he furrowed his barely-present brow. The fog on his glasses dissipated and his blood ran cold. He needed an outlet for his fury and the perfect victim sat merely four stories up.

Mark took off up the flight of stairs, determined to kill the man who put him through so much pain and anguish, who makes him question who he is. It's bad enough to make Mark hurt, but when anyone makes him question his worth, then they have obviously crossed a line. He spent the run up the stairwell thinking about what he'd say. It was all well and good to want to confront Roger, but what the hell was Mark going to say? You suck, you gave me AIDS? Mark, despite his current rage, didn't want to hurt Roger, that wasn't the point. He wanted to vent, to face his problem head on.

He slid the cold metal door open over the cold track to find an image that he had hoped never to see again. It put him at rest, somehow, but it was still upsetting to find Roger on the couch, doubling over in pain and dry-heaving. Mark knew all too well what that meant. Roger was trying to get clean.

Stinging feelings started in Mark's nose, growing more intense until they traveled to the inner corners of his eyes, threatening to produce tears. Mark would not cry. Mark refused to cry. Whether they were hypothetical tears of joy or disappointment would remain a mystery to Mark. He forcefully slid the door back and Roger jerked up.

"Why did you do it?" Mark demanded an answer with his piercing blue eyes. The icy stare could pierce through any soul, just like the cold through anyone's skin.

"I just wanted to have fun." Roger's plain, immature answer infuriated Mark to no end. His eyebrows twitched, but he refused to back down.

"Fun? You just wanted to have fun? Well guess what, fun doesn't happen. We're supposed to be adults. You used me and it's not okay this time! I gave you my everything. Everything! Just once, like to see you act like you care. You just don't get it! If you could find it in your heart to do something for anyone other than your goddamn self, then maybe we wouldn't be here. What you said about me hiding, it's right. Because when I thought I would survive, I didn't want to think about what would happen next. I was afraid of the future. But now that I won't survive I'm still just as scared! I am terrified and you couldn't give a fuck about anything that happened to me. If you wanted me back so badly, then why the hell are you using again? Why do you treat me like shit? Why am I always giving and giving, but you just take?" At this point, Mark was in tears. His stained face distorted itself so much that it hurt. The silence was deafening. The cars outside could be heard, from ignition to the moment when it sped away. Mark wanted nothing more than to be that car and get away, but he refused to. Not this time. He finally wanted to face his problems and conquer them once and for all; he wasn't about to ruin it by running. A few more moments passed and when Mark was about to give up, Roger meekly opened his mouth and whispered the two words Mark desperately wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry."

Mark relished the words and let them sink in his mind. From the running to the loft, cursing God for everything, and finally telling Roger, he didn't know what he wanted. He figured he wanted closure or something at least close. He just wanted Roger to reflect on what was wrong. His roommate, friend, companion, and unrequited love rose from his spot on the couch and limply walked over to Mark. Once he approached, they were standing about a foot away from each other. Roger extended his arms for a hug from Mark. This was it. Mark had two options: he could forgive Roger and continue life for whatever time he had left or he could reject the apology and leave.

_Roger sat on the bench by the window, staring out into the warm July night._

"_Hey." Mark walked in and dropped 3 bags of groceries on the metal table before gently placing his camera next to them. "What's up?"_

"_I'm sorry." Anyone other than Mark would have questioned the apology, but would have accepted it and moved on. Mark had a good memory. Mark knew that was the first time Roger had ever apologized to him._

"_You okay Rog? You're being awfully normal tonight, and it doesn't suit you."_

"_Very funny Cohen. But I am sorry. We…we shouldn't have kissed last week. It was weird and wrong and we both know it was just the alcohol talking." Any energy Mark had was drained from his body._

"_Right," he replied curtly. "Well, we can just forget about it, okay?" Mark ran to his room without waiting for a response from his roommate. The only time the asshole had ever apologized and it hurt even more._

Mark took one step towards Roger, raised his right hand and swung it forward. The sting of the skin-on-skin slap left Mark's hand and Roger's faced bright red.

"Not again. I will not let it happen again. You dick. Are you blind or do you just enjoy toying with me? You know what hurts the most about you? You preach that I need to live when it's you that I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of being alive, because being alive would mean facing rejection. Being alive would mean facing you." Mark's yelling was enough to make the tough rocker across from him bite his lip in pain. Mark never meant to hurt Roger, but just as he wanted an apology, he wanted Roger to suffer.

"I always knew you were running Mark. I knew you wanted to escape from something, but I hope you know that it _kills _me to know that you want to escape me." Roger's sincere face glowed to Mark. He seemed almost angelic. "I'm sure you figured it out by now, but I'm getting clean. I know that you gave up a lot to help me the first time. Hell, you gave up everything. But this time I'm going to do it myself, unless you want to help, of course. I just want to prove my worth. I know that…that…" Roger choked on his words, "I drove you away, but I can change. You said it yourself; Maureen is a lifeless robot now. Well if she can change, can't anyone? I will change for you. Please Mark, I need you."

And Mark turned away. He turned calmly, slid open the metal door to the loft for the last time, and walked away. As soon as he shut the door, he darted down the grungy stairs, weeping over his lost friend. He could tell Roger was sincere, serious even. But Mark just couldn't take it again. He couldn't take the emotion and drama that came with knowing Roger. He couldn't take being alive.

He trotted down the last few steps and pressed his back against a nearby wall, sliding down and collapsing on the floor. He sat frozen for a few minutes when he realized that he needed to break all ties. He needed to become a new person, far away from New York. He exited the building that held memories of his life, his actual family, and ran out into the street. He stood there for a moment or two while a few cars swerved around to avoid him. Finally, a large truck from Flying Pig productions approached him when he saw the brightest light he'd ever seen. It glowed and glistened, and then it all went black.


	8. Epilogue: Being Alive

Epilogue: Two Years Later

Roger walked up the cracking steps of the cemetery, carefully avoiding large cracks in the stones. He was walking to his doom. True, two years ago he lost the most important thing in his life, but now it felt real. He didn't go to the funeral; funerals made him sick. He didn't want to disrespect his friend by running. Running got him here. He deserved everything he had at that moment: nothing. The tree that shadowed Angel, Mimi, and Collin's graves had a new mate. Lying under it, was a white marble tombstone. Roger hocked everything he had to pay for it. He called it his parting gift to Mark. He reached the pure stone and gazed at the engraving.

_Mark Cohen_

_1965-1992_

_No Day But Today_

The epitaph reminded him of his life before Mimi. He was a selfish asshole and he realized it everyday, but that day it ended. He reached out to the cool, damp dirt that covered the buried body and smeared some on his right forearm.

"I'm coming for you. No day but today, right?"

With that, he drew the razor from his pocket, and pressed the dull edge to the dirty skin.

"I'm not a coward, Mark. I hope you know that. And now, I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid to join you. I loved you Mark."

He drew the piercing edge on the underside of his dirt covered arm and the blood poured.

"You always said that I should get out and do more. Well, now I got out of the loft, and I did something. You may not like it, but I did it for you."

The day that Roger Davis died was largely uneventful to the rest of the world, but one young man, no more than 20 witnessed his dying confession and his suicide. Three days later, a new plot of land next to Mark Cohen was filled with the body of his dead friend and lover. No one came to a funeral, but the young man carefully chose the epithet: _Somebody make me come through, I'll always be there, as frightened as you, to help us survive being alive._

_A/N: Sorry I never really got around to finishing this story. I intended to do more and talk about Roger post Mark's death, but I felt like I sort of betrayed my original intent and didn't like where I took the story. But now, I feel like it was time to wrap it up and tie it off with a bow whether I like it or not. Maybe someday I'll come back and fix this story, but for now, no day but today_


End file.
